


Pack Bonds

by The13thBlackCat



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Were-Creatures, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13thBlackCat/pseuds/The13thBlackCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a werewolf isn't always easy. Luckily, having your pack nearby makes it easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack Bonds

It had been six days. The Underforge had echoed with noise for two: at first just the occasional snarl or groan, then hoarse whimpering, and now the rough, sobbing cries of his Shield-Brother.  
  
He had lasted longer than anyone expected.  
  
Someone had seen something in the woods of Whiterun hold: something that had put the city on alert. The word "werewolf" had been murmured more than once in the past few days. The Companions were careful, of course, to never be seen in their beast forms, at least not near their home: Farkas doubted one of _them_ had been caught. But _something_ had, and it made things...difficult.  
  
Likely, it would all die down in due time, and so long as the Companions were careful not to look guilty, nobody would be any wiser. After all, this had happened before--most recently, when Sondas had first been changed and escaped before they could catch him--and they always managed. It had been worst for Aela: she wasn't like the rest of them. Her beast needed to hunt more often, and being cooped up and restricted to one form made her snappish and short-tempered.  
  
Sondas was even worse than she was, though.  
  
The Underforge had a small section created specifically for containing powerful beasts: a metal pen built into the stone near the back entrance, simple and strong. It was enough to contain a werewolf with minimal guard, and had served before on the rare occasions when one of the Circle needed to be controlled. Sondas had willingly confined himself there, making an excuse so the majority of the Companions wouldn't wonder at his absence in Jorrvaskr. The Circle knew, though: Sondas was not lacking for control of himself, but like Aela, he reveled in his beast, and that made it strong. There was a wild, dangerous thing in the dark elf, and that thing _**did not**_ want to be confined or denied a chance to hunt.  
  
Farkas tried his best to ignore the elf, tried to focus on his blade: sharpening it was methodical, soothing, and the clear agony of his Shield-Brother most certainly was not. Ideally, the calmest of them would be the guard: Vilkas would have been most likely, or Kodlak himself if the situation seemed dire. Farkas had insisted, though, and since Sondas seemed marginally calmer with him around, nobody had argued.  
  
He looked up when Sondas quieted, frowning. The dark elf was curled up in the center of the cage, panting raggedly. Farkas knew him well enough to know his habits: Sondas went out hunting bandits in Whiterun's plains most days, but got short-tempered if he took longer than two days to kill. That he had lasted for so long before deciding he was too dangerous to be loose was admirable.  
  
Farkas moved from his spot to kneel beside the cage, murmuring Sondas' name softly: he would be in agony now from the wolf trying to force him into a change, and easily provoked, and Farkas didn't want to startle him with too much noise. Anyway, he knew Sondas could hear him no matter how quiet his voice was: his own hearing was good enough to pick up his Shield-Brother's heartbeat, a rapid, painful drumming in his chest.  
  
Sondas looked up at him with golden eyes and _whined_ , the sound too canine to come from his throat. His dark skin was mottled and pale, blotchy and more grey than blue. His features were too rough and harsh, and dark fur sprouted from his skin in patches: along his jaw, the backs of his ears, his arms. A sheen of sweat shone on his skin. He smelled like anger and desperation and pain, bleeding off him in equal amounts.  
  
The sight of him in such a state made Farkas frown, and he felt a lurch of protective anger in his chest. _You **know** how to stop this._  
  
As if he could read his mind, the dark elf reached out, grasping the bars of his cage so tightly his knuckles almost went white. His nails were too long and too dark. "Farkas, _please._ " Sondas' voice, usually deep, had gone high in desperation, the tones ash-roughened and half-crazed. " _Let me out, **please.**_ "  
  
"You know I can't do that, Sondas," Farkas answered, keeping his voice as soft and soothing as he could manage. It wasn't a tone he was used to using, but for Sondas, he'd try.  
  
The dark elf _snarled_ , lunging at the bars with bared teeth, more like a wolf's than an elf's. " _ **Let me out!**_ " Farkas let out a soft breath, shifting his weight back some, but only once he thought Sondas wouldn't take it to mean he'd frightened him.  
  
"I can't."  
  
Sondas snarled again, hoarse and animal, and tightened his hands around the bars. For a moment Farkas wondered if the cage would hold, but then he put the thought out of his mind. It would.  
  
He didn't want to think about what it would mean if it didn't.  
  
His eyes met the elf's and held them: holding eye contact with one of the Circle was chancy at best, and certainly not the best idea with Sondas half-wild, but Farkas needed him calm. The dark elf was growling now, a constant, low rumble of sound in his chest, his teeth bared. Finally, though it seemed to be a great effort for him, he looked away.  
  
 _Good._ Farkas let out a little breath. _Still more man than beast in there right now._

   "You know I can't let you out, Sondas," he said softly. "Not for a few more days." He reached out to brush his fingers over the elf's, then laid his hand on the bars, over Sondas' fingers.  
  
The elf made a hoarse, low sound, a kind of keening animal whine, in his chest. " _I know,_ " he answered, almost in a sob. But he _had_ answered, and that was what mattered.  
  
Farkas swallowed, frowning. A moment later, he slipped a hand through the bars, cupping Sondas' cheek. It was a foolish thing to do, of course--nobody in their right mind would stick their hand in a cage with a half-crazed werewolf and expect to get it back, no matter what form they were in--but Farkas didn't think Sondas would snap at him. Not yet.  
  
The dark elf huffed out a hot breath against his arm, then turned his head slightly, nuzzling into his palm. He just breathed for a moment, almost panting with the strain his beast was placing on him. Finally, slowly, he began to relax, little by little. His lips grazed Farkas' palm, pressed against it in a silent apology. When he looked up, his eyes were red again, and his features a little bit softer, smooth elven angles rather than hard lupine creases.  
  
"Just a few more days, Shield-Brother," Farkas said softly, leaning his forehead against the bars. Sondas swallowed, and nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into his hand.  
  
It was the best they could hope for right now.


End file.
